Not What it Resembles
by Medie Shanachie
Summary: Eliot is going somewhere in the evening and Hardison is determined to find out where.


**Characters:** Eliot Spencer, Alec Hardison, various OCs

**Fandom:** Leverage

**Rating:** PG-13

**Warnings:** Not really any other than...Hardison is so not stealthy, spy guy :-)

**Spoilers:** The Stork Job; off-handedly The 12-Step Job

**Disclaimer:** *sigh* Nope I didn't win them in the lottery so only the OCs belong to me.

**Author's Note:** So this one is for switch842 :-) with whom I had a long or well on-going discussion about Eliot and his relationship with strippers. This didn't turn out exactly the way I meant it to, but well. Hope ya like it! Y'all can decide when this takes place, but for sure after The Stork and 12-Step Jobs.

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_"Did you ever notice how all bad guys know at least one stripper?"_

_"You know at least a hundred so what does that make you?"_

_"I'm a bad guy."_

Hardison looked up as footsteps went past his office. The team was between jobs at the moment so although everyone was spending time in the building there was nothing that was really requiring them to hold regular hours; not that they ever did. Now he watched as Eliot shrugged into a leather jacket and headed for the front door. The retrieval specialist had been doing this at the same time for the last three days like clockwork and it was killing Hardison that he didn't know where the other man was going. He had tried everything--following the man had resulted in Eliot weaving through traffic on his motorcycle and ditching him while bugging his clothes hadn't worked when Eliot had just changed before he went out. Hardison wasn't sure what had prompted that, but Eliot seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to Hardison's tricks. He hadn't even be able to track Eliot by the GPS on the phone because the retrieval specialist turned it off as soon as he left the building and it didn't go on again until hours later. Then it registered the address Hardison had learned was Eliot's apartment.

Today should be his chance though. The two men had arrived at the same time so Hardison knew Eliot was driving his Rubicon and not riding his Ducati today, which would mean following him would be easier. Shutting his computer down quickly, he hurried after the other man, waving at Nate and Sophie as he passed the ex-insurance agent's office.

Sophie had watched the two men exit with interest. "Any idea what that was all about?" she asked as she looked down at Nate from her perch on his desk.

"I suspect it's killing Hardison that he has no idea where Eliot is going in the evenings," Nate replied without looking up from the newspaper he was reading. "He's probably attempting to follow Eliot again."

"Do _you_ know where Eliot is going?" Sophie wanted to know.

"Yes. And if Eliot wanted you to know, he'd tell you." He looked up from his paper now and fixed Sophie with a gimlet stare. "Don't worry about it. Eliot is not doing anything that will compromise the team."

"But..." Sophie started to protest.

"Sophie, he has the right to some privacy," Nate said firmly. "Drop the subject."

"Well, you didn't need to get upset about it." Sophie pouted. Sliding off the desk, she straightened her skirt. "I'm going to find Parker."

"I believe she went out a window!" Nate called after her.

Down on the street, Hardison got behind the wheel of his car and slipped into traffic behind the black Rubicon he recognized as Eliot's. As he weaved through traffic, he typed one handed on his computer. He had planted a tracking bug on the Jeep earlier in the day, sneaking out when the group was eating lunch, and now he enabled it so if he lost the vehicle in the maze of streets and cars, he might still be able to locate his friend.

Fifteen minutes later, he was glad he had taken the time to plant the bug when Eliot slid through a yellow light and Hardison had to slam on the brakes or run the red. "You haven't foiled me yet," he muttered as he glanced at the flashing icon on the map on his screen. Deciding the better part of valor would be to let Eliot arrive at his destination, Hardison pulled into a near-by parking lot and watched the spot move. When it finally stopped, Hardison looked at the address, but didn't recognize it. Deciding he wasn't going to find anything out sitting here, he plugged it into his GPS and took off.

The building he arrived at ten minutes later was nondescript and looked like a simple warehouse. There were no signs or other markings to indicate what it was. Ten cars were scattered around the parking lot, including a black Rubicon. Checking the license plate, Hardison made sure it was Eliot's. He sat in his car for a few minutes, eyes going back and forth between the door and Eliot's Jeep. He had hoped to get there when his friend was still outside and he'd be able to go in with him. But somehow he had missed him. After dithering for a few minutes, he shoved his laptop under his car seat and got out, approaching the door.

A quick search of the door revealed no bell so he rapped on the door, then harder when the first knock brought no answer. As he shifted from foot to foot, waiting for an answer, he tried to figure out what the place was. He didn't think Eliot was running a job. They had all agreed not to do any outside work without alerting the rest of the team, but you never knew what was on the mind of the retrieval specialist. Hardison tipped his head back, looking for a security camera, just as the door opened. He found himself face to face with a bruiser that would give Eliot a run for his money. "We're closed."

"I'm not, I'm not interested in whatever you're selling or offering or well. I'm looking for a friend," Hardison babbled, taking an involuntary step backwards.

The man crossed his arms, a truly impressive feat since Hardison didn't think he could actually bend the tree trunks that held his hands. "You don't have any friends here," he growled.

Hardison jerked a thumb at Eliot's Rubicon. "The guy that drives that Jeep. Is he inside?"

"Moose," a feminine voice came from behind the behemoth. "Are you scaring potential customers again?"

"He says he's looking for someone," the man replied.

A feminine hand came around the side and tried to move him out of the way. "Moose." A sigh followed. "Moose, I'm sure you'll be able to deal with anything that happens, but please move so I don't need to speak through you."

When she was revealed, a woman who reminded him a bit of Sophie, but harder and older, was standing in the doorway. "Who are you looking for, young man?" she asked, not unkindly.

"The guy who drives the Rubicon," Hardison started again, then prayed Eliot had used his real name, "Eliot? Is he here?"

She looked puzzled for a moment, then the confusion cleared and she answered, "Oh, you're looking for Elly. He's in the lounge." She opened the door wider and motioned him inside.

_Elly_? Hardison mouthed to himself as he entered. "Would I be able to see him?"

The woman took his arm. "Oh, sure, sugah. You go right on back. Any friend of Elly's and all that. Just go straight through the main room and the door on the other side leads to the lounge. You should be able to hear their voices once you go through the door." She pointed him in the right direction and then with a pat to his arm, she left him.

Hardison looked around the main room as he strode through it. It took him a few minutes, but he recognized it after a few minutes. He had wandered into a strip club. Granted a higher class one than he had seen on television or in movies and games, but still very recognizable as a strip club. Wondering what exactly his friend was doing here, Hardison realized he wasn't going to get any answers until he found Eliot. Opening the door the woman had indicated, he entered a narrow hallway.

He was half-way down the hall when someone rushed him, throwing him up against the wall. "What are you doing here?" a voice growled in his ear.

Hardison had tensed when he slammed into the wall, but the growl was as familiar as it was threatening. "Hey! Hey!" he protested. "That's really uncalled for."

Eliot pushed him into the wall. "Why'd you follow me, Hardison?"

"I just...I wanted to know where you were going," Hardison answered. "Hey, can you ease up? You're hurting me."

"So you couldn't just ask?" Eliot responded, not releasing him.

"I didn't figure..." Hardison started, but was interrupted by a voice.

"Elly, is everything okay?" the voice was high-pitched and definitely female, but Hardison didn't dare turn his head to see who it belonged to or laugh at the man holding him against the wall being addressed as 'Elly'.

"Go back inside, Bethy," Eliot's voice was gentler as he addressed the girl. "It's fine. I'll be there in a minute." After the sound of a door shutting, he turned his attention back to his friend. "You're here now so you might as well see." Stepping back, he released the other man. "You'll be respectful and keep a civil tongue."

Hardison rubbed his neck where Eliot had held him. "Ya know, you could have just stopped me and asked me what I wanted. Ya didn't have to go all caveman on me and slam me into the wall. My bruises have bruises have bruises!"

"Stop whining, Hardison," Eliot said. The two men walked the rest of the way down the hallway and Eliot opened the door, stepping inside first. "Sorry, ladies," he said as he picked his way through the group.

Hardison entered to find a variety of women in differing stages of dishabille lounging around the room. Almost as one they turned to look at him and he waved awkwardly not sure where to look since their clothes didn't cover them so much as hint at what wasn't supposed to be looked at. It didn't seem to be bothering Eliot as he settled into the large chair against the far wall. One of the girls promptly dropped into his lap as soon as he was seated and he brushed her hair away from his face. "Ladies, this is my friend, Alec," Eliot introduced him. "Now where was I?"

"You just got to the orphanage," one of the girls answered. "And were looking for Parker."

"Oh, right. Thanks, Candi." Eliot shifted the girl on his lap, moving her to a more comfortable position. "Nate sent me in with Sophie to protect her and to take out anyone who might have hurt Parker," Eliot said.

"Why'd he send you?" the girl on his lap asked. "Why didn't he go? Or the other guy? The computer guy?"

"Cuz that's what I do, darlin'." Eliot tapped her on the nose. "Just like I protected you from Bill the other week. And Gabi from that handsy guy a few months ago. Now hush so I can finish the story before you have to go dance."

His admonishment was backed up by the rest of the girls in chorus and she pouted. "All right."

Hardison watched as the tough as nails man who regularly saved his and the rest of the team's asses weaved a story about one of their capers. It took him a few minutes, but he recognized it as their trip to Serbia and rescue of Luca. The girls were enthralled by his tale, hanging on his every word. He tuned back in as Eliot was saying, "The girls hustled the kids onto the bus and Nate got ready to take off. The bad guys came running up and aimed. Parker was in the doorway of the bus and put herself in the way; a human shield between the kids and the guns the men held."

Gasps came from the audience and one of the girls cried, "Oh, no! Did they shoot her?"

Pillows flew at the girl who had interrupted. "Shut up!" a few of the others cried. "Let him finish!" someone added.

Eliot chuckled and glanced at the watch on his wrist. "If y'all keep stopping me, we won't get to the end before Miriam comes in for the show to start." When the girls quited down, he picked up the story again, "They opened fire and Parker looked down to discover that there were no bullet holes." He grinned down at the girl in his lap. "We had switched their guns with our prop guns. Hardison came out of where he had been hidin' and stepped into sight. He was all for the grandstanding. Holding up a remote, he detonated the explosives that he had placed. Running to join us, he hopped onto the bus and we drove off into the sunset."

"So what happened to the kids?" one of the girls asked from where she lay on the floor.

"We turned them over to a Red Cross like agency and they all got placed with good homes," Eliot assured them. Boosting up the girl on his lap so that she was standing, he added, "Now y'all better go get ready."

"Are you staying tonight?" Gabi asked as they began to get to their feet, stretching and bending.

"I will," Eliot answered. "And I suspect Alec may too. I'll be in Miriam's office. Shelly, did your car get fixed?"

"No, Elly," she answered.

"Okay. I brought the Rubicon so I can give you, Gabi, and," he turned to the girl who had been sitting on his lap, "you, Bethy, rides home tonight." The girls nodded, stooping to kiss his cheek before filing out of the room with waves to Hardison.

"Okay," Hardison said when they were alone in the room. "What the hell? You're telling strippers bedtime stories? And '_Elly_'?"

Eliot pointed a finger at him. "You tell anyone about 'Elly' and no one will find your body."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not finding that very threatening when you've just had a stripper curled up in your lap as you told her a story. A story about one of our jobs!"

"The girls think the stories are just that...stories. But it gives them hope," Eliot replied. He motioned for Hardison to follow him down the hall to another room which turned out to be a small office.

Hardison sat down in the chair on the visitor's side of the desk as Eliot sat behind it and flipped on the security monitors. "How did you get involved with this group?"

Eliot was scanning through the cameras and he answered almost absently, "Miriam and I went to high school together. She's had some trouble with customers and so I give her a hand when I can. I've been giving the girls self-defense lessons when I have time too."

"So you aren't the big, bad guy you claim to be."

Eliot turned cold eyes on the other man. "I beat the shit out of Bill for tuning up Bethy a couple of weeks ago. And I almost threw the guy who wouldn't keep his hands off Gabi through a window. So you wanna tell me how I'm not a bad guy?"

"But you were protecting them." Hardison thought about it for a few minutes. "Just like you protect us." Reaching across the desk, he touched Eliot's arm where it was laying on the desk. "I think that makes you a pretty good guy."


End file.
